While You're Gone
by kesesesesesesese
Summary: I remember what Antonio said to me before he left: "You've got to love and live like there's no tomorrow, Lovi. Because life's just so short. One day you're here, and the next you're gone." And then, just like he said, the next day he was gone. And I was left waiting. Pirate!Spain and chibi/teen Romano. Human names used.
1. I

******Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**  
I'm trying to keep this whole story historically accurate, but I'm only human so it might not all be perfect!  
This story will contain the following pairings (but they're really not going to be a very big part of the story) : GerIta, AusHun, sort of PruFra, and possibly POSSIBLY Spamano.  
This story will also contain cross dressing! (Just a warning...)**  
****Flashback in _italics. _****Anyways, on with the story (in Lovino's POV):**

"What were you doing in town, anyway?" Bella asks. She caught me sneaking around the market, so now she's taking me back to that giant, stupid, empty house. We're sitting in the coach of her fancy-ass carriage, and she keeps _talking._ "You know, Lovino, if the _policía_ see you, they won't let you stay with Antonio."

"With…" I echo. Stay _with _Antonio. How can I be staying _with _him if he's not here? If he hasn't _been here_ in four years? I'm not staying _with _Antonio. I'm staying with a _memory_. Now, you see, there are a few reasons why I'm staying 'with' Antonio; and why I _can't _stay with him if the _policía _see me.

Here's why I'm staying with him: my parents are dead. My mother died after giving birth to me and my twin _fratello, _Feliciano_. _Only days after that, my father dropped dead of an unknown cause._ Nonno_ decided to take me and my _fratello_ in, and he took care of us for three years. We were doing alright, really. I mean, _Nonno _liked Feli more than me, that was obvious. But we were still okay. It was actually starting to look like me and Feliciano might have a stable home, but then _Nonno _just disappeared. And when I say 'disappeared' I mean, like disappeared into _thin air_. No one knows what happened to him. Naturally, Feliciano and I were put up for adoption. But apparently the _idiota _who put us up for adoption forgot to mention we were twins. Basically, instead of one going with the other like twins should be, instead of us being the package of Lovino and Feliciano Vargas, we were set up to be adopted separately. And, of course, Feliciano got adopted before me. I haven't seen him since then. Haven't seen my twin-my 'other half'-in eleven years.

Anyway, reason why I can't be seen by the _policia:_ I was adopted by a young, smiley Spaniard with the name of Mr. Aarón Garcia. Bright eyed, energetic, and enthusiastic; Mr. Garcia was a perfect person to adopt a child. However, the Mr. Garcia who had adopted me was actually Antonio Fernandez Carriedo; a_ pirate_ using a fake name. Okay, I know that sounds bad: a pirate adopting a little boy. It definitely sounded bad to the _policia _when they figured out what happened (that's why they can't see me: they'll take me away from Antonio if they do.) But it's really not bad. Antonio dropped the entire pirate thing before he adopted me. And if Antonio _hadn't_ adopted me, I would probably still be in that fucking adoption center thingy. Let's just say I'm not always the most pleasant person, so the fact that someone as caring as the tomato bastard came along was a really, really good thing (even though I absolutely hate admitting it.)

"Uhm…" Bella waves her hand to get my attention, and I blink a couple times. Wake myself up from _that_ trip down memory lane. "Lovi, I-" Bella begins talking again, and I clench my teeth. _No one_ calls me Lovi. Only Antonio, and that was when he was still _here_.

"Don't fucking call me that, Bella," I snap. Honestly, I didn't mean for it to sound so harsh. Didn't mean to curse at her. I never mean to. Not at Bella. But I always do, because she refuses to leave Antonio out of any of our conversations. She knows I don't do well when I think about him; a mix of emotions all come at once and I can't ever control what I say or do. He _did _just up and leave me here all alone. It's not like I choose to hate him and miss him at the same time. But Bella is always stuck with it. Poor Bella who I treat like shit even though she's been my saving grace since Antonio left. I don't deserve her kindness. She shouldn't have to deal with me. But for whatever reason, she does.

I've known Bella for…probably as long as I've known Antonio. So that's eleven years. Bella and Antonio became friends after Antonio decided to end the pirate life. The two of them were always so damn cheery before he left. I swear, those two could've outshone the fucking sun if they wanted to.

You know, it was probably Antonio. He probably made her promise to look out for me while he was gone. I'm a burden. But Bella always keeps a promise. I suppose that's why he picked _her _in particular to look out for me. Of course, she wouldn't have to look out for me if the stupid tomato bastard hadn't left. For some reason, Antonio makes the dumbest decisions-like leaving-but then he turns around and makes the smartest ones-like picking Bella to check up on me.

Speaking of Bella, she's looking right at me. Staring, really. Her green eyes are full of worry and sadness. I turn my head and stare out the window so I don't have to see that sad look on her face. I can never stand it anymore. It reminds me of the day Antonio told us he was going out to sea…

"_B-but…Antonio, I thought you said you were done with that life!" Bella says. I'm sitting in her lap, looking up at her. Sadness fills her emerald eyes, but she keeps her facial expression calm. Strong. "You said you were done being a," she hushes her voice, "pirate!"_

"_I know, I know," Antonio says and rubs his tired eyes. He hasn't slept in days. I would know, I've always slept in the same bed as him. For the past few nights he just lies there, staring up at the ceiling. Every time I would look over at him I could see the moonlight reflect in his wide-open eyes. _

_"But Arthur needs another ship…" he continues slowly. I look over at him, tears brimming my eyes. "And I made a promise I intend on keeping." I blink and the trears spill down onto my cheeks. Does this mean he's going to leave me here? He's going to leave me all alone?_

One of the carriage wheels hits a bump and jolts me out of my memory. I blink and look into the wide tomato fields outside. From the little window in the carriage it looks like they go on forever, but I know they don't. I've been out in those fields enough times to know that they don't. But there's still a lot of them. Enough for a million pasta dishes, I bet.

Pasta. Feliciano loved pasta when we were little. That's one of the few things I remember about him: his ability to repeatedly say the word 'pasta' without ever getting sick of it. I would get sick of _hearing_ it before he would ever sick of _saying_ it. I remember once in the adoption place, he said it one too many times and the supervisor lady threatened to smack him. He had started to cry even though she hadn't smacked him yet. I had to hug him and kiss him on the fucking cheek just to get him to stop.

When the tomato bastard adopted me, the adoption place had given him a file about my brother. Because, you know, that _totally_ makes up for the fact that we got separated. Not. Anyways, the file had the names of the people who had adopted him. What were their names again? _Che palle, _I can't remember. Whatever. I can find the file when I get back to the house.

"You used to love being called that…" Bella says quietly. I whip my head around; what the hell is she talking about? I look at her quizzically, trying to remember. We hit another bump. What, is the coachman _trying _to throw us off the road? Really, I've half the mind to tell him how to—

My thought's cut off by yet another bump, but this one somehow makes me I remember what Bella had said: "You used to love being called that." She's talking about my nickname: Lovi. And, yeah. I did love being called that. Along with _mi tomate, _and Roma. But I only loved it when Antonio said it. It's not like I smiled every time he said it, though. Usually I responded with a glare or a phrase such as, "shut up." Hell, I'd still respond like that if he were here now.

"That was before the damn tomato bastard left," I hiss. My eyes narrow into a glare as I speak. "If he ever decides to drag his ass back home…" I trail off, not really knowing where I was going with that sentence. I look back out the window at the sea of tomatoes. Who even needs that many tomatoes, anyway?

"He'll come home, Lovino. He promised." I don't believe her. After four years of waiting, I've learned not to listen to her. Learned not to get my hopes up when she says he'll come back soon. Learned not to listen when she talked about new ships coming in the bay. I learned to block out anything and everything to do with Antonio. All because I know I can't handle him being gone much longer. I've almost given up any hope of him coming back. The only thing keeping me going is the thought that someone might come prove me wrong. Someone might give me a reason to wait a little longer.

The carriage stops where it always does: in front of the apple tree. It's where Bella always drops me off, and it's where she always leaves her carriage if she comes to visit. It's not by choice, believe me. There's a big stone wall up ahead with a cast-iron gate that takes a lot more muscle than we possess to open. Luckily, however, when I was about six I found a hole in the wall hidden by some type of weirdo vines. That's how Bella and I get in and out the wall now that Antonio's not here to open the gate for us.

"Do you want me to walk you up to the house?" Bella asks. I look up at her and shake my head. She looks at me for a long moment before speaking, like she had to carefully decide how to say it. "A-are you…okay, Lovino? You seem a bit…spacey."

"I'm fine," I say flatly. It wasn't very convincing, but it's not like I tried. She gives me a faint, half-smile before I step out and onto the dirt road. "Goodbye, Lovino," she calls from the window as the horse guiding the carriage begins to trot away. I wave my hand a little before turning around and walking down the road.

I drag my feet, stirring clouds of dust up around my legs. They swirl around and around until they finally settle back onto the ground. Then I kick them up again. It takes about ten minutes to get to the house from the apple tree if you lollygag the way I do. The road cuts through one last field of crimson tomatoes before it comes to the wall with the big gate. The brick walls are half-way hidden behind this really tall grass. And when I say tall, I mean it! It's so flippin' tall, it almost goes over my head! But then again, I'm really not that tall. I'm pretty sure I'm short compared to the rest of the boys my age, but I hardly ever leave the house so I don't know for sure.

I kick up one more dust cloud before looking up from my feet. There it all is: the tall grass and the brick walls and the gate. Only… It's open. The gate is open. What the fuck?! Who opened it? That thing hasn't been opened for years! Whatever; it's open now, so I'll just go in this way. Maybe I'll find out who opened it… Wait… I freeze in place and my eyes snap open. Someone came. Oh, please don't let it be the _policia…_

I begin to run down the dirt path that leads to the house. It takes a turn to the left, and I follow it. From here you can see the giant clearing that's in front of Antonio's mansion of a house. Usually the clearing's empty. But today, the big clearing in front of the house isn't empty. There's a carriage sitting right in the middle. It's a fancy one, too. Pulled by two white horses, and the carriage itself is painted black with golden swirls up and down the sides. It doesn't belong to the _policia_; theirs look different. Thank fucking god. It's rather nice looking, actually. The carriage. Bet someone paid a load for _that. _But, expensive or not, it's not what I want to see. It means someone's come here. Someone knows _I'm_ here.

I dodge behind a tree and hold my breath. I don't know what to do. This is insane. Someone is _here. _No one has been here other than me and Bella in four years. Why did they decide to come _now?_ I peak around the tree and see two figures walk up to the huge front door. They seem to be arguing, but their voices are muffled so I can't tell what they're actually saying. Not that I really care. I just want them to go away, whoever the fuck they are. Since they're not looking my way, I run to the side of the house, then alongside the wall to the back door. I pull my key from my pocket, stick it in the lock, twist the key, and push the door open as quickly as I can. As I slip through the back door, I hear the two people knocking on the front door. I have to go right past that stupid door to get up to Antonio's room. I always go there; for some reason it's more comfortable than my room. Bigger, too. Not that my room isn't big. All the rooms in this house are huge.

I enter the main hall-another big room-and notice that there's a clear view into the house from the windows that are next to the front door. Great. Now how am I gonna get past here? I guess I could get on my hands and knees and crawl to the stairs so they couldn't see me…

"Maybe he's not here, _mon ami_," I hear a French-accented voice say. It makes me jump a little. Wasn't expecting to be able to hear what the people where saying through the door.

"Of course he's here," a German voice responds, "who would miss the awesome me at their doorstep?" More knocks. "Open up, Antonio!" I suppose the German voice could actually be Prussian, but I don't really-whoa, whoa, wait. Antonio? Everyone within a hundred miles knows he went to sea with Arthur four years ago. Why's someone calling _his _name?

"Antooooooniooooo!" the French guy calls.

"Open this un-awesome door!" the German/Prussian demands. They obviously have no clue that Antonio's not here. Maybe they're not from around here. Maybe they're _not_ dangerous…

"I'm telling you, Gilbert, he's not here!" Oh, so the German/Prussian has a name! That's helpful; now I can stop referring to him in my head as the German/Prussian guy. Now I just need to find out the Frenchie's name. Speaking of Frenchie, he's almost whining now. It's actually a little amazing how clear I can hear them.

"If he's not here, then who am I going to screw tonight?" Gilbert asks. I wrinkle up my nose in disgust. What the hell is wrong with this guy? He and the Frenchie obviously _know _the tomato bastard, but I don't remember ever meeting these people.

"I'm always here, _mon cher…_ And that's not even why we came here!"

"But Francis, I haven't done Antonio in years!"

"_Che palle,"_ I mutter, and shake my head. I can't take it anymore. This conversation is too weird. Gilbert and Francis are official perverts, and I don't want to know what else might be said. Let's see how much we can spare my poor mind… Before the other man can respond, I run to the door and throw it open. At this point, I don't give a damn if they know who I am. I just want them to shut the fuck up. "What do you-" I start, not looking up at them because the sun's shining in my eyes. They cut me off before I can finish.

"Feliciano?!" the two men ask in unison. What the…? So, they know my _fratello_, too? And they think I'm him? What's going on?!

"Huh?!" I ask, feeling more confused than ever. I look up at them and almost fall over backwards. Towering over me is a man with bright red eyes and grayish-white hair. Behind him is a blond with blue eyes. Really, they don't look freaky-I only freaked out because they're fucking tall. Or maybe I'm just short… As I said earlier, I honestly have no idea because I hardly ever leave this damn house. "Y-you know _mia fratello?_" I ask the men after I recover from my semi-panic attack

"Fratel-what?" the guy with red eyes asks. He's got the German accent. He must be Gilbert. He raises an eyebrow at me quizzically, then turns to the blond standing next to him. "What's he talking about?"

The other shrugs. "I'm French, not Italian."

"Feliciano is _mia fratello," _I tell them. They look back at me blankly and I roll my eyes. Even Antonio's friends are dumb. "My brother! We're twins!"

"Feliciano has a twin?" they ask in unison again. Why do they keep doing that? It's starting to freak me out...

"Never mind that," I say, pushing past them and onto the front steps. I'm hit with another wave of Spanish sun and I shield my eyes. "You've gotta get that," I point to the carriage, "outta here."

"Don't tell the awesome me what to do!" Gilbert all-but-shouts, voice full of self-confidence and pride.. I look back at him, my usual glare plastered across my face. Friggin' potato-sucking bastard. German or Prussian-it doesn't matter. I can still call him a potato bastard. So I will.

"I'll tell you what to do," I lower my hand, "and you'll do it, damn it. When the tomato bastard isn't here," I step towards him and stare up into his red eyes. I'm so much shorter than he is, but I don't care. "I'm the one in charge. Got it?"

He looks down at me for a moment. "Who _are _you?" he finally asks.

"Lovino Vargas," I reply simply, and fold my arms across my chest.

"And how do you know _monsieur _Antonio?" the one called Francis asks.

"He adopted me, raised me, and then left." I turn around to hide my sad frown. "Now," I continue, not turning around to face them, "are you going to move your goddamn carriage or do I need to do it for you?"

I honestly have no idea what kind of people I'm dealing with here; Antonio has been known to befriend questionable people. I don't know if these are people he knows through the pirate life (although, with the way these two are acting it'd be hard to picture them being pirates.) They could be people he's known his whole life, or just a few years, etc. etc. They could be pedophiles, for all I know! It really wouldn't surprise me, though. Or scare me. They can try to pull all the shit they want. I won't care. With Antonio's coming back almost being a hopeless dream, what've I got to lose?

"Where do you even want us to move it to?" Gilbert asks. Finally I turn and face him again.

"Back to wherever the hell you two came from," I hiss, glare deepening. I hear Francis mutter an "ouch" like I hit him or something. It's funny, really, that these two fully-grown men would let the short little fourteen-year-old me boss them around. I'd never get away with this if that smiley Spaniard were here. "Why did you come here, anyway?" I ask them.

"To see Antonio!" Francis says, a weird smile coming across his face. Devious, I guess you could call it.

"Well, you're too late. Like I said, he left." I look down at my shoes and blow some of my fringe out of my face. "You shoulda come four years ago."

"Where'd he even _go_?" Gilbert asks, the quizzical expression back.

"Hold on, you've asked enough questions. Let me ask one," I look up at him and he nods for me to continue. "You said you know Feliciano."

"Yes, that's true. Both me and Francis know him. And West, but he's not here right now. And then of course Roderich and Elizaveta know him."

Roderich and Elizaveta… Those names ring a bell. They are the people who adopted Feliciano. "What're they like?" I ask. "Elizaveta and Roderich. The people who raised my twin. What're they like?" I pause before adding, "What's Feliciano like?" Gilbert glances over at Francis and they exchange an expression that I hardly notice.

"Story time!" Francis exclaims like a child, and practically prances into the house.

"Hey!" I call after him. "Get back here, Francey Pants!" I follow him into the house, but I can still hear Gilbert outside the door, laughing his ass off. He repeats 'francey pants' a couple times before coming inside the house with us. Fuck. Now they're in Antonio's house. They'll get it dirty, and then I'll I have to clean. Not to mention the fact that I'll have to somehow drag their asses out of here... They've already made themselves comfortable on one of the couches in the sitting room!

Why, Antonio? Why'd you have to make friends with these people? Why'd you have to make me deal with them while you're gone? Why do you even have to be gone in the first place?

**A/N Well, there's the first chapter! I'll be trying to update like, once every week or two (or three)? Hopefully I can do that (with any luck, stupid school won't get in the way) Thanks for reading! Tell me what you think so far if you want to!  
(Oh, and if you didn't know, Bella is Belgium ^-^)**


	2. II

**A/N hello everyone! Sorry this chapter's a bit late. I've had so much homework lately! =_= I hate school… Anyway, this chapter is also twice the size of the last one, so it took a bit longer to write.  
****I suppose I should warn you that there is (kinda, sort of, not really) some France x Prussia in this chapter. If you don't like that pairing, it's really not that big, so read the chapter anyways! XD**

"Goddamn it!" I shout as I storm into the sitting room, "I didn't invite you two to come in here!"

The Prussian and the Frenchman look up at me from their seats on one of the velvet couches. Now that we're inside and the sun isn't in my eyes, Francis actually looks kind of… familiar? I don't know why he looks familiar, because I don't think I've met him before. But for some reason… Ah, who cares? He probably just looks like someone from town.

"It'll be easier to tell you about everyone if we're in here, won't it, _mon ami?" _Francis brushes a lock of blond hair behind his ear.

I stare at them for a moment. Try to decide what to do. "Fine," I eventually grumble and reluctantly sit down in an armchair across from the men on the couch. "Elizaveta and Roderich. Go."

"Well…" Francis begins, "They're interesting." Aside from that, he seems at a loss for words. I raise an eyebrow suspiciously. That doesn't make any sense, I thought he said he knew them… "Gilbert, you know them better! You talk about them!"

"Wha-me?!" the other man replies exasperatedly. "I only know them because Ludwig insists on seeing Feliciano all the time!"

"Yes, but that's better than me!" Francis whines.

"I haven't been down to see them since we moved North, though!" Gilbert counters. I'm starting to think that trying to talk to these guys is gonna be a handful… Hold on, '_we_ moved North'? Do they live together? And what does he mean by 'North'?

"Just because we went back to your 'precious' Prussia and let Ludwig stay with Feliciano in Austria doesn't mean you don't know more about Roderich and Elizaveta than I do!" Francis exclaims all in one, long, droning breath. 'Your precious Prussia,' Francis's words echo in my head. So Gilbert _is _Prussian. But… wait a second… What had Gilbert said earlier? 'Only because Ludwig insists on seeing Feliciano all the time.' How the hell did I miss that?

"Whoa, whoa, wait," I interrupt their bickering, "_Who_ insists on seeing _mia fratello_ all the time?" I sit up straighter in the chair as I speak, increasing my height a little. I don't know why; I guess it's protective instincts or something. Haven't seen him in eleven years, but I'm still protective of Feliciano. Hm.

"Ludwig," Gilbert repeats. "He's my little _bruder_. And he's sort of… uhmm…"

"Dating Feli!" Francis exclaims, clapping his hands together affectionately. My jaw drops. Well, I wasn't expecting _that. _ "They. Are. So. Cute together!" Francis continues, sounding a bit too cheery for my liking.

"FRANCIS! You weren't supposed to say that!" Gilbert hisses, punching the blond's shoulder. I sit there, staring at them as they stare back at me. My brother. Dating Gilbert's brother… oh, God. Why?

"Feliciano and _your_ brother?" I mutter under my breath, feeling somewhat… broken? Is that the right word? I don't know. It's just a weird thought, that my brother would love someone who's related to the albino sitting on Antonio's couch. I look at him, trying to convince myself that this Ludwig person is better than his older brother. I don't know if I can handle all this… "Why are you here?" I finally ask, trying to shake off the weird emotions mixing in my head. "Really," I go on, just letting the words spill from my mouth, "there has to be a good reason if you both came all the way from eastern Prussia." I fold my arms over my chest and let myself deflate into the chair. "You don't just randomly show up here, in _Spain_, with the goddamned war going on."

The war I'm speaking of is none other than the War of the Spanish Succession. Or-as I prefer on calling it-the biggest headache ever. The war's been going on most of my life. It started the same year Antonio adopted me, and Roderich and Elizaveta adopted Feli: 1701. So now, in 1712, I'm just awaiting it's end as patiently as I can. Whenever Bella's not talking about Antonio, she's usually talking about the war. But it's not like I ever really listen. I _did, _however,listen to who was aligned with who. It's the so-called Grand Alliance among the Spanish loyal to Archduke Charles, the Holy Roman Empire, Great Britain, the Dutch Republic, Portugal and the Duchy of Savoy vs. the Spanish loyal to Philip V, France, and the Electorate of Bavaria. The war itself hasn't affected _me_ much, but I've kinda been hidden away in this house all these years. All I _do_ know is that it's affected Spain as a whole. It's split the whole fucking country in two, which does make me worry a bit. And not knowing exactly where Antonio is and how it's affecting him really doesn't help.

"There is a good reason, _mon ami," _Francis says, pulling me back into the world around me._ "_But, well…" Francis looks over at Gilbert, who seems to be a little on the spacey side, too. He's just kind of staring at the floor. Looks like he's just woken up and it's two in the morning. Francis clears his throat, and Gilbert looks over at him. "Gil, are you-"

"I-I'm fine," Gilbert reassures him, then turns to me. "Getting here with the war wasn't easy, believe me…" he trails off a little, then looks out the window. The sun shines directly on his face and suddenly I see how tired he looks. He's got dark circles under his eyes, and his face is considerably lacking in colour. He hasn't gotten sleep in days; I can tell. I've seen that face on Antonio before: complete exhaustion. It was when I was…five, maybe? The _policia _had just found out who 'Mr. Garcia' really was, and Antonio had to figure out how to get them off his back.

You see, Antonio used to live a hell of a lot closer to town. He had bought that little house close to town because he wanted me to be able to grow up like every other normal kid. The only thing was, because he was trying so hard not to get caught by the _policia, _we were both stuck wearing some pretty interesting clothing. In particular, I was put into a dress so that no one would know it was really me. Now, I didn't care if I was wearing a dress when I was little, and thinking about it now just makes me laugh. But, if Ihad been caught as a boy in a dress? In 18th century Spain? God knows what people would have done to Antonio and I…

Anyways, in the end I wasn't caught in the dress. Me not having the dress was actually the reason we got caught. The idiot from the adoption place (the one who split Feliciano and I) recognized me one day when I was playing outside in normal boys clothes. As he was walking up to say hello, Antonio burst out of the house with his pirate hat, practically bounced over to me, and plopped it on top of my head. He obviously hadn't seen Mr. Adoption Idiot, because he continued to say something like, "You look so cute in my hat, Lovi~!"

As you can imagine, adoption guy _freaked out_ and went to the _policia. _That's how we ended up here in this big-ass house. Antonio had all of our stuff packed and ready to go by the time the sun went down, then we left the little house and rode around in Antonio's carriage for a full day (apparently Antonio isn't as good at navigating on land as he is at sea, so we got completely lost) before we finally found this place. I guess the correct term wouldn't be 'found.' Antonio bought this monster-of-a-house without ever saying anything to me. He did, however, mention it to one of his friends.

I remember when we finally got to this house; Antonio's friend threw the front double doors open and pretty much jumped out onto the steps. He greeting us with a foreign language, one I didn't really know, but when he spoke in English he had a French accent. He was blond, with slightly wavy hair, and when he came closer to us I could see his bright blue eyes…

"WAIT!" I exclaim, practically falling out of my chair. The two men sitting across from me jump. "I-it's you!" I continue, pointing at the Frenchman across from me. "Francis!"

"_Mon ami, _ I'm not sure if I understand," he replies, looking at me with those wide blue eyes.

"You were the one who came to this house and helped Antonio and I move in," I explain, not necessarily happy to see him again, but not really angry or upset either. It's just sort of generally weird.

"But…" Francis still looks helplessly confused. "Antonio had a little _girl _with him. She was wearing a dress! A-and he said he was just babysitting!"

"Yeah, well, Antonio _lies_," I say, narrowing my eyes. He lied about me. He lied _to _me. He said he was coming back. He didn't. "You never really answered my questions," I eventually say, changing the subject.

"Well, which do you want us to start with?" Francis asks, seeming more than happy to change the subject away from the confusion.

I sigh. Think about it for a moment. I don't think it'd be worth it to ask about Roderich and Elizaveta again, since it caused that…episode. "I want to know why you're here." I look back and forth between them. "Both of you. And that's all I want to know for now."

Gilbert looks over at Francis, they nod, then Francis pulls an envelope from the breast pocket on his jacket. It's old and yellowed, a corner's stained with coffee or tea or something, and there's a faded address written on the front of it. He hands it to me, and I take the delicate paper into my hands carefully. "Open it," Francis instructs me. I flip the envelope over and pull out a thin piece of folded paper. It's yellowed, too, but not as much as the envelope. I unfold it, revealing loopy cursive letters spelling out words in Spanish. I furrow my eyebrows and read aloud, trying to translate it as best I can.

"_Dear Gilbert and Francis," _I read aloud, "_I wish I could write you both saying that I'm getting along nicely, but that would not be the truth. The truth is never what we wish for, is it?" _After reading the first line of text, I know these are Antonio's words. That's the way he talks when he's sad but doesn't feel like admitting it. He makes everything sound so heavy. Deep.

"_The truth," _I continue reading aloud,translating from the written Spanish to English as I go along, _"in fact, is quite far from what I'd wished for. The policia are still after me, according to Bella. She's told me that they've been ruthless searching the town, and it wouldn't be long before they began their search outside the town, too." _

Somehow I'm able to remember the Spanish Antonio taught me, which is odd because I never thought I even fully learned it in the first place. But now it just… makes sense. Knowing that Antonio wrote it helps. Knowing that if I don't know one of these words I could probably guess what it was just by knowing Antonio. That's the thing about him: he never shuts up. I never thought there'd be a point in listening to him, but I did anyway. And now, it's paying off.

"_You know I always try to find the brighter side of things, although I can't help but think I'll have to run again. And if I run, Francis, I'll have to…." _What the hell is that word? Aban- er, no. Aband… "_Abandon this place," _I finally understand_. "Which means the only way we'll possibly see each other again is if I write you once more and tell you where I am. Let's hope it will not come to that, but if it does, there is somewhat of a favor I need from you." _

I stop for a moment, glance past the top of the page at the two men across from me. Francis is resting his head on Gilbert's shoulder, eyes closed. Gilbert is kinda looking at me, kinda looking at Francis. They look completely exhausted. Both of them. I wonder what they went through trying to get here. Gilbert said it wasn't easy…

I look down at the page and find my place again. "_If you do not hear from me or Bella within four years," _I stop speaking again and stare at the page. Did I read that right? Four years? That seems like a hell of a long time just to wait for a letter. But… I guess that's as long as I've waited. "_If you do not hear from me or Bella within four years," _I start again, "_then it means that I'm alright and the policia haven't caught me. However, if something goes wrong, then you'll no doubt hear from one of us. If that happens, then I need you to come here to the mansion. There's something here that is very important to me, and I'm afraid it may not be able to go on without me. I cannot tell you what it is, but it means the world to me and I cannot bear the thought of something happening to it. So please, if worst comes to worst and I cannot take care of it, I need you to. I trust you. Both of you."_

I stop once more, processing what I've read aloud. I am the 'it' he's talking about. And I-the it-meant the world to Antonio. From this letter you'd never think he'd leave me here so he could live a pirate's life again. You'd think that after the scare with the _policia _he'd stay with me. You'd think he would be happy enough living a normal life and raising me like a normal person. You'd think he'd want me to be happy, too.

From this letter you'd _never_ think he'd cause me as much pain and sadness as he has.

"_I hope you'll follow my instructions and not think I'm joking around like I usually am. Because if you don't follow the instructions, and something happens to that thing that is so important to me…I don't even know. I just don't know anymore, mi amigos."_

"Hey," I say, looking up at Gilbert to get his attention. He looks up and gives me a questioning look.

"Ja? What is it?" he asks groggily. He's still acting like he just woke up, and Francis is still resting on his shoulder. He looks like he might have even drifted off.

"When did Antonio write this?" I ask, pointing a finger at the paper in my hand.

"Uhmm…" Gilbert looks down at his hands. Starts counting with his fingers. "Probably 1703…? Ja, that sounds about right."

"The year we moved here," I say quietly, then let my eyes fall back down to the page in my hands. "Had he really been in _that much _trouble? To the point where he trusted _you _two?"

"Hey!" Gilbert exclaims defensively. "We're not _that _bad!" He glances over at Francis who's now fully asleep, still resting his head on Gilbert's shoulder. Gilbert rolls his eyes like this is the millionth time this has happened. "Well, I don't know about him anymore," the Prussian says, "But I raised _mein bruder _by myself, so I think I can handle whatever the hell he's talking about in that letter!"

I look up at him again. "You don't know what the 'it' is?" I ask, almost like it's a joke. He shakes his head. I laugh. A weak, bitter laugh. "Me."

"You?"

I nod. "It's surprising, isn't it? That I, of all people, would mean so much to him…" I trail off. Look back at that yellowed paper in my hands, and find where I had left off. The letter doesn't have much written after that. There's some really random stuff—I think inside jokes or something. And then, down at the bottom, he signed his name in large swirls. Almost like it was a way to say to the _policia, _"Fuck you! I'm Antonio Fernandez Carriedo! I'm a goddamn pirate! _Deal with it_!" At least, that's what I'd like to think he meant by it.

"Why…" I start saying, but stop when I don't know how to continue. I absentmindedly trace the letters written onto the paper with my finger. "H-he said four years," I finally murmur. "But… It's been _way _past four years since he wrote this. Why did you come if you thought he was okay?"

"To visit," Francis murmurs sleepily. Guess he didn't fall asleep after all. I stare at him for a moment as he pushes himself away from Gilbert and all the way to the other end of the crimson-red couch. He uses the armrest as a pillow and within a fraction on a second he seems to be asleep.

"You two are really _that _tired, huh?" I ask aloud, not really expecting an answer.

"Ja, I guess so," Gilbert says. "We've still gotta find a place to stay, then somehow we get to figure out how to get food…."

"Do you just want to…" I can't believe I'm saying this, "Stay here?"

"Really? You'd let us _stay?_"

I nod without thinking. Ohhhhh, shit. What have I just done…?

"Really?" he repeats, looking more shocked than ever. "You really don't have to—"

I cut him off, feeling more annoyed with myself than him. "Oy, shuttup before I change my mind!" I rise to my feet and begin to walk out of the sitting room, into the main hall.

"Where are you going?" Gil calls after me. His boots click against the tile floors as he follows me.

"You said you needed food," I respond, not stopping or turning around to face him. Instead, my eyes wonder to one of the many grandfather clocks in this house. "It's past six. I'll make dinner."

"All by yourself?" he asks as we enter the kitchen. It's a pretty nice kitchen, compared to the one we had in the smaller house. This one has bright white walls, and cabinets everywhere. The other one had dark brown walls (which could get a bit depressing at times.) I guess there are _some _perks to living in a place this big…

"Believe it or not, I can make dinner by myself!" I finally look over my shoulder at him. "I already rolled out the pasta before you and the Frenchie showed up. I can handle making sauce, for fucks sake!" I sigh. I've been doing this on my own for years now. It's not like making two extra servings is going to kill me.

"I can help, you know," Gilbert suggests. I frown.

"I don't want to eat a bunch of fucking potatoes." I walk to one of the cabinets and pull the door open. I reach in and pull out a cutting board. Gilbert starts saying something again. Something about how he can cook other things than just potatoes. I shut my eyes and take a deep breath. I will not yell at him. I will _not_ yell at him. I will _NOT _yell at him…

He keeps saying more random shit. "Just let me—"

My eyes snap open and I slam the cutting board down on the counter to silence him. "I can make dinner by myself, damn it!" I shout as I turn around and face him. He looks taken aback. Was I louder than I thought…? I bite my lip, feeling almost a little bit bad for snapping at him. He was just trying to help. But I lost my temper. Like always.

"_Mon Dieu…" _Francis steps into the kitchen wearily and rubs his eyes. "You two are very—" he stops to yawn before finishing. "Loud."

"Francis," Gilbert says, "tell Lovino to let me help with dinner!"

The Frenchman's groggy face is suddenly swept over with a look of horror. "Uh-uh!" he exclaims. "_Pas du tout! _No way!"

"What? Why?!"

"Gilbert, _mon cher," _he continues as he starts to pull his hair back into a pony tail, "There's a reason why I've been doing almost all of the cooking for the past nine years."

"Nine years?" I ask, making sure I heard Francis correctly.

"Ja… Nine years, more or less," Gilbert shrugs. Why did he say 'more or less'? Fucking weirdo…

"Gil, let me help with dinner. Go lie down or something, you haven't slept in days!" Francis begins to push Gilbert to the door, then out into the hallway. All the while, Gilbert's muttering things in German that don't sound very pleasant. It's pretty entertaining: watching those two interact. They know each other so well, it's almost crazy.

I walk around the kitchen, to the drawer with the knives, and pull it open. I rifle around in it for a moment, trying to find a good knife for cutting tomatoes. The blades clank together as I push them around. Shit, where did that knife _go_?

"What're we making for dinner, Lovino?"

I jump. "What the hell!" I exclaim. I was _not _expecting Francis to creep up behind me like that. "You didn't need to fucking scare me!"

"Well, you don't need to be so jumpy!" he counters as he walks past me and starts looking through the other drawers. He pulls out a mixing spoon and taps it against the palm of his hand. "Would it be so terrible for me to assume we'll be eating pasta tonight?" he asks, a smile creeping onto his face.

"_Cosa non va con voi!" _I say angrily, not bothering to translate for him. "_Si!"_

"What're we going to eat, then?" he asks, unfazed by the Italian I just spoke. He leans back against the counter, mixing spoon still lightly tapping against his hand.

I glare at him and fold my arms over my chest. "…Pasta," I eventually grumble. His grin widens and I roll my eyes. Stupid Francey Pants… "Here," I say, picking up a tomato and handing it to him. "Find a knife and cut this up, will ya?"

He takes the tomato in one hand and sets the spoon in his other hand down. He starts rummaging around in drawers looking for a knife like I had. Eventually he finds himself a knife and does as he's told, leaving me to stand there and do nothing. I look around the kitchen, trying to think of something to do. I pick up the spoon Francis had been holding and spin it around in my hands, still trying to come up with something. Why'd Gilbert think it would be nice for me to sit around and do nothing? This is fucking boring!

I decide to go through a mental list of all the things we'll need for dinner. I made the pasta earlier—before Bella caught me in the market. You know, her catching me was just stupid. I needed garlic for the stupid pasta sauce! How else was I gonna get it? I _had _to go to the market! There was no other way to-

My thoughts are interrupted by an obnoxious and rather annoying voice: "Do you need my awesome help yet?"

"NO!" Francis and I exclaim in unison as we spin around to face Gilbert, holding our utensils out like they're lethal weapons. He jumps back a little.

"W-why not?" he asks, taken aback yet again by one of my outbursts. But this time, he almost looks worried for his life. It must be because Francis yelled, too.

"I already told you! I am _not _eating potatoes!" I exclaim. "Nor will eat anything a potato bastard makes!"

"Exactly!" Francis laughs a little, then turns to me. "You're not even the one who has to live with him!"

I look over at Gilbert, who now seems to be little pissed. It causes me to crack a grin, which irritates him more. He looks like he would walk right out of this house if he had anywhere else to go. But he doesn't. So he's stuck here with Francis and I.

"You two just…shut up!" he says, "you're just intimidated by my awesomeness!" He proceeds to turning on his heels and storming out of the kitchen and down the hallway. I hope he doesn't get lost. I sure as hell don't want to go looking for him. This place is huge, and I speak from personal experience when I say it's easy to lose your way.

"I know what you're thinking," Francis says, and turns back to slicing one of the tomatoes. I turn to look at him.

"What am I thinking?" I ask, curious to discover if he really knows.

"You're thinking he'll get lost in the halls," he looks up and sets the knife down. "You don't even need to confirm, I already know that I am correct." He leans against the counter and notices a portion of his blonde hair that fell out of the pony tail. He brushes it behind his ear as he speaks, "Don't worry, though. He won't lose his way. He may act like a clueless dumbass sometimes," I burst into laughter, and Francis soon follows before he can finish whatever it is he was saying. I don't even know why it's so funny that Francis called him a dumbass. I hardly ever laugh at anything, or find it funny. So why is this so terribly hysterical? I don't know if I'll ever know.

After a moment of laughter, I try to calm down. Take a deep breath. Eventually I stop, and so does Francis. I feel like I should try to put my normal frown back on my face. I can't help but still smile, though. One of those goofy grins that spread from one side of your face to the other. The kind that little kids draw with a crayon. Francis is smiling like that, too. A crayon smile.

It's a weird feeling: smiling again. It seems like it's been forever since something like this has happened. It's been forever since I've had people to talk to (other than Bella and some people in town who still think I'm a girl… _Mio dio, _those people should really get their eyes checked!) It's been forever since I've laughed and smiled without Antonio being the cause of it.

"Hey, Francis?" I ask.

"_Oui? _What is it?" He picks up the knife and finishes cutting up that tomato as he waits for my answer.

"Uhm, I was just wondering…Why did Gilbert say 'nine years, _more or less' _?"

"Well…" He sets the knife down and begins rummaging around through the cabinets. I wait for my answer as patiently as I can, but I can't help but wonder why it's taking him so long. "We weren't together for the full nine years," he finally says.

"What do you mean by 'together'?" I ask curiously. Normally, this is the kind of talking I try to avoid, but for some reason I want to know. Maybe it's because I said they could stay here… I don't know. Shit, I really don't care if I have a reason, either.

"We uhh…" he pauses again, this time he shuts the cabinets and out the window. "We used to date."

"Oh…" Now that I'm thinking about it, I guess I _could _see them as a couple… Damn, they know each other well enough.

"Do you have a something to start cooking these tomatoes in?" he asks, beginning to peer in random cabinets again. I hand him one of the pots that were sitting on the counter and he takes it in his hands with a smile.

"We lived in Parisfor a while; Gilbert and I," he says. I hand him a bell pepper from the other counter, and he starts cutting it up, too.

"But as time went on…things just began to fall apart. Then we got in a fight…I don't even remember what it was about," Francis continues. "I told him to leave, but I didn't really want him to. I didn't expect him to, either. But he did. He packed up all he had, grabbed Ludwig by the hand, and moved all the way to Austria."

"Austria? Why the fuck did he go there?"

"I don't know, _mon ami. _That's where he met Roderich and Elizaveta, though. He actually met them because of your brother," Francis tells me and finishes cutting the pepper. I hand him an onion to keep him busy as he talks.

"_Mia fratello? _What did _he_ do?"

"Well, he met Ludwig, and… You should really be asking Gilbert these questions, not me!"

"Oh, right… Sorry," I say sheepishly. "So, Gilbert moved to Austria. Then what?"

"Then I didn't hear from him for a while. Eventually Roderich sent me a letter, practically begging for me to come take Gilbert back," Francis laughs a little. "Apparently Gilbert knows how to push all of Roderich's buttons. Not to mention Elizaveta! But anyway, when Gilbert said 'more or less' he was talking about when he was in Austria."

"I see…" I didn't really expect that long of an explanation, but I guess it was a little helpful. I mean, I learned some stuff about all these people I hardly know.

I lean on the counter. Begin staring at nothing. What else goes in marinara sauce….? Spices, right? I glance at the spice rack and pick up the oregano. While Francis finishes the onions, I start putting everything together in the pan. It doesn't really look right… Not very pasta-sauce-y. Oh well! I don't care! It's food, it'll be fine.

"I knew that the romantic relationship was over. We both knew that," Francis says a bit randomly. I look over at him. What's he talking about? "So, when I went to Austria to try to get Gilbert to stop bothering Roderich, I didn't expect much…" Oh. God, he's been talking about this for a while now. What, is he like, opening up or something? Opening up? To _me?_

"But when I got there, oh _mon ami!_ You should have seen his face! He was actually happy to see me! Said he was sick of those 'un-awesome' people and needed a real friend again!" Francis smiles happily. Like that was the best thing he had ever heard in his entire life.

I notice that he's done with the onions, so I put them in the pan with everything else. I pour some olive oil in with it, then add salt and pepper before finally setting it on the cast iron stove and cooking the hell out of it. We stand there for minutes, just staring at the sauce as it cooks, until I decide it's acceptable. It's kinda lumpy, so I just take a spoon and basically mash it up. Yup, this is my definition of cooking.

"Don't you have any wine?" Francis asks, a pout forming across his face. Only now do I realize he's been snooping around the kitchen while I…mashed.

"Why the fuck would I have wine?" I grumble, setting the sauce down. "You know, you and the potato bastard should just be happy that I'm letting you be here at all. I could've kicked your sorry asses out of this house right from the start, but I didn't!" I pause, catch myself, then mutter, "I'm not even sure why I let you stick around…." I shake my head slightly, suddenly confused by my own actions. You know what, who gives a shit? I'm hungry. It's time to eat.

I pull three plates from a shelf, and find the pasta I made earlier. I shovel it onto the plates, then top it with the bright red sauce. I balance two plates in my hands, leaving one for Francis to get, and walk out of the kitchen and into the dining room. I set the two plates of steaming pasta onto the huge dining table. My eyes wonder down it's length, all the way to the other side of the room with the window. The last few streams of Spanish sun are soaking through the half-way closed curtains. Pretty soon those golden rays will disappear behind the treetops, so I go ahead and begin to turn a few of the oil lamps on. When I feel there's sufficient lighting, I turn back around to see that Francis has set the third plate of pasta in it's place, and he's setting silverware beside the plates. I watch him finish setting the table, then stand back and smile at his work. He swiftly turns on his heels and exits the room. I don't bother to ask where he's going. I'm more interested in the way the table looks.

It's not it's absurd size that's got me puzzled. It's not the fancy-ass table cloth that's been there since I can remember. It's not the Red Carnation flowers that I picked the other day and set in a vase of water in the middle of the table. It's not something that other people would notice. What it is, what I'm puzzled by, is how different the table looks when there's three plates on it; and not just one. It looks so much more… No, screw that. It looks so much _less_ _lonely._ When was the last time I've eaten with this many people? It must have been when Antonio was still here, and it would have been a day that Bella was staying for dinner… However long ago _that _was. Probably a little more than four years. We didn't have dinner together very often, actually.

Francis walks back into the room, miraculously holding three glasses of water at once. He sets them down, then walks to the other door; the one that leads into the hallway. "Gilbert!" Francis calls, popping his head through the doorway and into the hallway. "Dinner's ready!"

Francis sits down in a chair, then motions for me to sit next to him. I sit. Watch Gilbert walk into the room and sit across from us. There's a little yellow bird nestled in his hair, which makes no fucking sense. But I decide not to question it, and begin to eat. The other two do the same, and dinner passes in silence. I don't know if it's because it's awkward, or because the other two people eating are so tired.

"Rooms," I say after we've finished the meal. "I'll show you your rooms."

Francis and Gilbert nod, and I lead them out of the dining room and into the hallway. Past curtains hung high, and paintings on the walls, I quickly stride down the hallway, not caring if my guests are keeping up. We reach the door I'm looking for and I push it open and step inside. I turn on an oil lamp, illuminating the room, then I turn to the Frenchman and the Prussian.

"Who wants this one?" I ask them. They both shrug.

"I'll take it," Francis decides.

"Alright," I walk out of the room, leaving Francis in his room. Gilbert's at my heels, almost like a dog, as I march to the staircase.

"Just how big is this place?" Gilbert asks as I continue to lead him up.

"Big," I reply simply. He doesn't respond, so I turn back and look at him. He's not happy with my response. "What? It's big! Isn't that enough?"

He says no.

"Ok, fine. It's so big that I've gotten lost in it at least a dozen fucking times. Is _that _enough?"

"Hm," is all he says, which kind of pisses me off. What else am I supposed to say? Give him the square footage of the place? "How many rooms?" he asks as we reach the top of the first flight of stairs. I feel my face redden.

"Why do you even care?!"

"I dunno," he shrugs. "I've got nothing else to talk to you about, except for Antonio. And you don't seem too keen on talking about _him…"_

"Thirty-eight!" I blurt out without thinking. "Thirty-eight rooms, if you count the closets and the pantry."

"Ah. I see," he stares down at me for a moment. You can practically tell he's analyzing my strange behavior when the subject of the tomato bastard comes up. I don't care, though. As long as I don't have a mental break down because someone other than Bella decides to talk about him, I don't care what people think of me.

"Yeah," I continue, mindlessly talking without really knowing what the hell I'm doing. I don't even notice that I begin walking again, and he's following me. I'm just trying _not_ to think about Antonio. Trying not to let fifty thousand emotions all swallow me at once. "And I get to clean _every single _room."

Cleaning. Ah, yes, cleaning. A fucking catastrophe that was. When Antonio and I still lived in that house close to town, we had maids. They did a good job, too. Always cleaning up after my messes. But when we moved to the big house, Antonio didn't keep them. He said we'd be fine without them. That we'd both learn to clean up our clutter and avoid causing any major messes. Antonio was good at being tidy, and he was good at cleaning up after himself. But I wasn't. Now, I'll admit I never really tried that hard, but every time I _did _try I just made an even bigger mess. So, after many failed attempts, I gave up. And after a while, Antonio gave up on trying to get me to clean with him. He would spend a whole days cleaning, and to repay him, I would attempt cooking dinner. But that's a whole _other_ story.

Anyways, Antonio left me all alone in this stupid house, so I was left with the cleaning. At first, I had absolutely no idea what to do. Hardly knew how to use a damn broom, let alone clean windows and dishes and shit like that. But through trial and error, I eventually figured it out. The house looked like total trash the first month or so. Then one day, something inside my head just clicked and I understood how to do it. It was like God finally decided to grace me with a miracle.

My legs automatically stop in the middle of one of the hallways, and I look up. Sure enough, there's the door I was looking for in the first place. It's a dark wood, and it's got hand-carved designs all over it. Right in the center is a carving bigger than the rest. The carving is of the moon. "You'll be staying in here," I say, pointing to the door. "The room with the moon on the door."

I twist the sparkly crystal knob and push, letting him go inside first, then I follow. I walk over to one of the oil lamps and turn it on, illuminating the darkness. I haven't actually been in this room for a while. I've forgotten how beautiful it gets with the moonlight streaming through the windowpanes. Although it's not much, the moonlight is still able to illuminate the tall red curtains. It makes them glow, and the glow echoes onto the king size bed. The walls are covered with you're typical rich-person wallpaper, and there's a few paintings hung up here or there.

"Everything you'll need should be in here. 'Ya know: bed, dresser, closet, and bathroom through that door," I point to the various parts of the room as I list them off and he nods.

"Ja, okay. Thanks, Lovino." I begin to walk to the door silently, allowing myself to hear his boots clank against the cold floor.

"Oh, wait…" I mutter, then add more volume to my voice, "Did you and Francis bring anything? Like, bags or something?"

"The bags..." He laughs a little, 'kesesese,' and I turn around. He's sitting on the edge of the bed, snickering. "We _had _some bags. But nothing lasted the trip over here. Taken away…" he trails off, stares at the floor for a moment before caching himself and looking back up at me.  
"Well, here. How about," I stride over to the dresser and crouch down to the bottom drawer. "How about you just use these," I continue, and begin to rifle around the drawer, looking for some clean clothes that might fit him. He begins to ask me what I'm doing, but I cut him off before he can finish.

"Just shut up for a minute, will you?" I snap. Fuck, there I go again! Why do I always do that? He didn't even do anything wrong this time! I open my mouth a little, wanting to say something, but not knowing what. Finally, I let a barely audible "sorry" slip from my lips. Stupid, stupid, stupid…

"OWW!" Gilbert exclaims out of nowhere, and I jump, causing me to drop to my knees. The clothes slip out of my hands, sending them cascading onto the floor.

"What is it?!" I respond, looking over my shoulder. He's trying to get his jacket off with one arm; the other seems reluctant to move. Come to think of it, he hasn't really moved that arm much all day. I wonder why? "Are you okay?" I ask, actually a little worried.

"Huh?" he looks up at me. "Oh, yeah. I'm fine." I stare at him for a moment then turn back to the clothing on the floor. Suuuure, he's fine. Whatever… I pick up the clothing and fold it swiftly, then stuff it back in the drawer with all the other clothes. Hmm… Which ones would fit him? I look back over my shoulder to take a visual measurement. He's trying to take the jacket off again, and he's still failing quite miserably. I roll my eyes after a few more tries. Why doesn't he just ask for help? "Are you _sure _you're okay? 'Cause it sure as hell doesn't look like it," I say and pull myself up from the floor. He looks up at me as I walk over to him, red eyes shining in the light from the oil lamp. He's still got one arm up in the air from trying to get the stupid jacket off.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine!" he insists, causing me to sigh and roll my eyes again. "The awesome me doesn't need help!"

"As much as I would like to believe you and just leave," I say, "I don't." I lightly push his arm down and place a hand on each shoulder to turn him, but he winces when I touch the right shoulder. Is he… hurt? I carefully pull the jacket off, revealing the white button up shirt underneath. I only glance at his back for a second before I turn around to hang up the jacket. But something catches me eye, causing me to do a double-take. The back of his shirt is practically shredded.

"What…the hell…" I mutter, gripping the jacket tightly. I stare at him for moment, just taking it in. There's some red spots on the fabric, particularly some on his shoulder and continuing down his arm. Through the shredded parts of the fabric I can see his skin. In some parts it's a dark red. Burnt. His _skin _is burnt. "What the fuck did you _do?_" I dig my nails into the cloth of the jacket. Needless to say, I'm a bit freaked out. Shocked, really.

"_I _didn't do it," he says and looks over his good shoulder at my face. "When I said getting here from Prussia wasn't easy, I wasn't kidding."

"Obviously…" I mumble. I pull my eyes from his back and walk past the bed to the closet. I pull it open, snatch a hanger, and hung up the jacket without even thinking. I feel somewhat automated every time I do something like this: hang clothing up, fold clothing, putting stuff away, cleaning dishes, putting those away, etc. I've been the only one here to do this stuff for the past four years, so I guess it makes sense that it's automatic…

I turn around on my heels and face the bed again. Gilbert's fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. He's only using one hand: his left hand. And it's shaking. He must be really fucking tired. He'll almost get one undone, and then it'll slip from his hand and he'll mutter something angry-sounding in German. I almost feel sorry for him. _Almost._

"Here," I sigh, and walk around to the side of the bed he's sitting on. "Let me help," I tell him, and push myself up onto the bed next to him.

"I told you, the awesome me does not need your help!"

"Maybe the 'awesome you' should just shut the fuck up!" I snarl, getting fed up tih his stubbornness. "I'm the one in charge, remember?" He frowns before nodding slightly. I pull my legs up onto the bed and sit cross-legged, then he turns to face me so I can undo the pearly-white buttons. As I undo them, I'm careful not to somehow hurt him. Even if he is goddamn annoying, I still don't want to hurt him more. By the looks of his wounds, he's been though enough pain for a while.

"Wait…" I pause and look up at his face. "Francis was leaning against your shoulder earlier."

"Yeah, so?" He gives me a look like I'm from another planet. Like there's no logical explanation for why I even asked the question.

"Didn't it _hurt? _To have him leaning on it like that?"

"Oh." He furrows his eyebrows, puzzled. Then, he looks normal again and says, "Oh yeah! He was leaning on the _other _shoulder. So, it didn't hurt, no. Only this one hurts," he points to the shoulder that's all burnt up. I look back down at the buttons and begin my work again.

Every once in a while I look up, and he's just looking down at me. Watching. I don't know if I should be pissed that he's staring, or glad that he's not talking. Either way, he still looks embarrassed by my help. It makes me snicker a little inside my head. Guess he doesn't get help that often. One of those I'm-superior-and-I-don't-need-your-help kinda guys. Fucking idiot. Really, admitting you need help with something isn't _that _bad…right? But then again, I'm not ever going to admit that having someone like Antonio again would help. 'Cause, I don't need someone like Antonio. I'm fine without him. Just _fine. _Right…

"So many damn buttons…" I grumble, having only gotten about half way through. Maybe this was how the tomato bastard felt every time I had to put on and take off a dress. All these stupid buttons… Really, what's the need for these stupid things? Couldn't we all just use ribbons or something? Well, no, I take that back. That wouldn't work. Then everyone would look incredibly girly. That would be really…amusing, actually.

I look up at Gilbert, picture him wearing a bright pink bow in his hair. Laughter bursts from my lips, and I cover my mouth with my hand, trying to make it stop. I'm not supposed to be happy when Gilbert's here. Wasn't supposed to be happy when Francis was helping me in the kitchen either. I don't _want _to be happy with Antonio gone. I don't _want _to smile, don't _want_ to laugh. But now, I can't help it.

"Wh-what is it?" he asks defensively. "What did I do?!" His face is slightly pink. Flustered.

"N-nothing, you s-stupid bastard" I stutter, still laughing slightly. Gilbert with a pink bow… That would be priceless. I focus back on the buttons, but I can still feel a devious smile lurking on my face. Pink ribbons will forever be a new inside joke. An inside joke…with myself. My smile's replaced with a frown for obvious reasons. Am I really so lonely that I have inside jokes with _myself? _What kind of a pathetic son of a bitch have I become over the past four years?

"Fine," Gilbert says, obviously trying to reassure himself, "I don't want to know." I snicker again. Damn right, you don't, potato bastard. You'd kill me if you did.

When I finally get to the last button, I get a little bit giddy. My mind's racing with things like 'finally! The last button!' As if I just won a battle or something. I'll do that with random shit every once in a while. Like when I'm cleaning, and I go from being stupid little Lovino Vargas to being some big important soldier person in the war. When I'm done cleaning a window, I'll take the bucket of soapy water outside and throw it up in the air. The water splashes all over, and I'll pretend that's like my grand entrance for my claim of victory. It's dumb, I know. And sometimes it makes me worry about my own sanity. But, hey, it's better than just moping around this place like a ghost.

"There we go," I say, finally finishing that last damned button. I sigh contently-pleased with my work.

"Took you long enough…" he responds. I don't know if he meant that to sound harsh or sot, so I just ignore it. I lean forward and begin to push the shirt off his shoulders. Now I see what he meant: only the right one seems to be hurt. The other looks perfectly normal. Well, at least there's that much. Maybe I won't have to deal with as much annoying whining if only one's hurt. I push the shirt off from his shoulders, and it slips down and sort of puddles around his wrists. I look up and realize that mine and Gilbert's faces are literally only inches apart. One false move and BAM…! And, believe me, I really don't want that to happen…

My face reddens instantly, and his does, too. I betcha we look like a couple of idiots; the two of us sitting on a bed, one with his shirt off, the other leaned in close to his face, and both of us red like tomatoes. Hell, if you just walked in you might think-

"Well, well, _well…_" I hear a certain French voice say from the doorway. _No. _No fucking way."What have I walked in on?" Francis continues, leaning against the doorframe. I jerk myself away from the Prussian sitting across from me, still blushing. But seriously, who wouldn't be blushing? No matter who it is, being that close to someone will make you blush!

"What? H-how long have you b-been standing there?!" Gilbert asks, turning his reddened face away from mine and towards Francis, who looks rather amused. That sneaky bastard…

"Since _someone _finished unbuttoning your shirt and said '_there _we go'!" When Francis quotes me, he completely changes the way I said it, making it sound _suggestive,_ of all things.

"_Che palle! _That's not how I said it!" shout, face reddening with anger, now, instead of embarrassment. "I thought you were asleep, anyway!"

He merely laughs in that stupid French way: "honhonhonhonhon!" It just pisses me off more. "A person can wake up, can he not?"

I clench my fists and I leap off the bed. I race towards him with less-than-friendly intentions (coughcoughMURDERcough) but he darts around the doorframe before I can even get close. I don't care _that_ much, though. I'll just keep chasing him until he locks himself in his room. That should be good enough, I guess.

I chase him down the halls, running past tall oil paintings and colourful curtains hiding the dark night. My bare feet fly across the cool tile, then dark hardwood, and the occasional decorative rug. It's strange, a little: hearing my footsteps and his echo off the halls, when just hours ago it was mine alone. When it had just been me, my footsteps sounded so cold. Empty. Now, combined with his, the house sounds like it did when I was little, and Antonio chased me around… Almost like this could've been him and me, not Francis. Almost like he's here again…

Francis's bedroom door slams shut, and I almost run past it. I skid to a stop and turn to the wood stopping me from strangling him. I didn't even see him go in there, he was so fast. Scared for his life, I bet. He'd better be. I pound my fist against the door a couple times, insult him in my native Italian, then give up and head towards Antonio's room. While I walk, I run my fingertips across the smooth, cream coloured walls.

When I finally get to his room, I fling myself onto the left side of Antonio's bed. I always sleep here. I have since I was little. And, no matter how stupid or silly it may seem, I always wake up hoping that he'll be lying here next to me. Always hope I'll wake up and he'll only be inches away instead of miles.

I pull the covers over my legs and lie there, just thinking. Thinking about all the crazy shit that's happened today. First, two perfect strangers show up at the doorstep. Then they tell me that my long-lost twin is dating one of the strangers' little brother. Then I find out that one of the strangers isn't even a stranger. _Then, _I find out that the one who _is _a stranger is hiding war wounds. Oh, and the strangers used to date, which sometimes makes things awkward. Pfffft, no duh.

It's just all so _weird. _

Maybe not in a completely awful way, though. I mean, it was kind of nice having people in the house again. Having people to laugh at, to laugh with, to talk to, to chase with the intent of murder. It's nice to finally interact with people again.

But it also scares me. In one day, these two people have already affected my life more than anyone in the past four years. They've made this house feel like a home again. They make me feel like-if they stayed-I could have a… family again.

But that's where it all goes wrong.

I can't have a family without Antonio.

…Or can I?

**A/N One last thing: I will be adding (at some point) to the disclaimer part of the AN in chapter one for warnings (such as that random France x Prussia, and also some other random shit.)  
****Anyway, that's all for now! Hope you liked it~! Do forgive me if there are any typos, I do most of my writing at 2 am so I miss some of them sometimes… ;)**


	3. III

**A/N sorry for a late chapter! I broke my finger, so it's kinda difficult to type. And I'm also not allowed to stay up until 2 am writing, so I have to do all my writing in the afternoons (along with homework) and on the weekends… -_-" Plus, I got a little bit obsessed with Homestuck. But anyway.  
****THIS STUFF IS ACTUALLY IMPORTANT****: Sorry if Bella seems really OOC in this chapter. This is the first story I've ever written with her in it, so I might be doing a pretty terrible job…  
****Also, I do all of my translations on Google Translate, so if you know that something's wrong, feel free to correct me!  
****Flashbacks in **_**italics **_**again.**

"LOVINOOOOO!" someone shouts.

I begin to stir, breathing in deeply. Did I fall asleep? I must have... Before I open my eyes, I reach over to the right side of the bed to see if Antonio's there. The bed's empty. No Antonio. Not that I expected him to be there…I always do that, though. Check for him. I've done that ever since he left.

"LOVINO?!" someone shouts again.

I blink my eyes open and look around, confused. I can't see anything. It's pitch black in here. Where the fuck am I? Why's it so fucking dark? Is it still nighttime?

"LOVINO, COME HERE! QUICK!" someone continues to shout. I sit up and rub my eyes, but I still can't see anything. I reach my hand out into the darkness, hoping to feel something. My fingers brush against velvet fabric. Now I'm really confused. The only velvet in Antonio's room is on the chairs, but I'm in the bed, right? That's no where near the chairs, though... So, why can I feel velvet?

"_Mon cher_? What is it?" another voice asks. It's Francis.

"I don't have time to explain!" And that's Gilbert… "The awesome me needs to get Lovino!" Yup. That's definitely Gilbert.

The door to whatever room I'm in bursts open, and light shines into my eyes. I squint to see who opened the door, but all I can see is a dark silhouette, waving it's arms frantically.

"What the hell is your problem?" I ask before yawning. I look around and notice that I'm right; I'm not in Antonio's room anymore. Actually, I'm no where near Antonio's room. "Why the fuck am I in the storage closet?!" I exclaim.

"Err…" The figure steps inside the room, allowing my eyes to register the fact that the figure is actually Gilbert. His ruby eyes bounce around the room, and I follow them.

Antonio always called this room a storage 'closet,' but it's actually pretty big. About the size of a normal bathroom, I guess. There's mainly just blankets and pillows and stuff in here, and it's usually neatly stacked up against the walls. But right now, the blankets and pillows have been converted into a make-shift bed big enough to fit three or four people in it.

"There was a huge storm last night," Gilbert explains, "It even knocked over one of the trees outside."

"Are you fucking serious?!" I exclaim, pushing the blankets off my legs.

"Ja. And you didn't wake up once! You'd think someone drugged you or something!"

"I'm Italian," I grumble.

"Well, anyways, Francis found this closet thing and decided it would be safe. But that's not important right now! Come here!" Gilbert quickly grabs my wrist and pulls me to my feet, then proceeds to drag me through the doorway and down the hall. I stumble along, rubbing my eyes and cursing under my breath as he turns corners and flies down the stairs. We finally stop in front of one of the windows in the front of the house. Gilbert points out the window frantically and I look up at him.

"What?" I say, rolling my eyes.

"Who is that?!" he asks, tapping his finger against the glass. I yawn again before peering out the window.

Bella's in the middle of the clearing in front of the house. She's wearing a corset with one of those giant hoop skirts, like always. This one's golden like her hair, which she's got pulled back into a bun. But her bun's falling out, which is normal, too. But what's _not _normal is that she's having to step over a lot of debris from the storm. She's also carrying something. Whatever she's carrying is poofy and pink, and really quite weird. That's the thing with her; you never really know what she's got planned.

"That's just Bella," I say, turning back to Gilbert. He stares at me blankly. "You know, Bella! Toni mentioned her in that letter!"

"Oooohhhh, ja, I remember now. I mean, I never actually met her in person. I think Francis did, though… But that was a long time ago." He looks out the window again. "What's she _carrying_?"

I shrug. "Hell if I know…Hey, where's Francis?" I ask, looking around the main hall.

"In the kitchen," Gilbert says. "He's making breakfast for us."

"That's kinda…weird," I mutter. "No one's made breakfast for me in years…" I guess having Francis and Gilbert stay here is gonna take some getting used to.

"What?" Gil questions. "I didn't hear you. What'd you say?"

"Oh, uh, nothing… Can you go get Francis and bring him here? I'm going to have to introduce you and re-introduce him to Bella."

"Ja, sure," Gilbert says, turning on his heels and walking off towards the kitchen. His boots click against the marble floors as he walks. I just can't get over how _strange _it is to hear other people's footsteps echo through the halls. The silence I've been living in: it's just one of those things you don't notice until it's changed.

Bella lightly knocks on the door, making me jump a little. I turn around and grip the golden doorknob, pulling the door open. Standing there with a broad smile painted across her face is Bella with that pink poofy thing in her arms. "_Bonjour, _Lovino!" she greets me.

"Yeah, yeah, _bon giorno._ Come in," I say. I didn't mean to sound so grumpy, but I'm not a morning person. Especially not when I'm woken up by that loud-mouthed potato bastard…

Bella steps inside, unfased by my grumpiness. I close the door and turn to her. "What the fuck are you carrying?" I ask, poking at the pink, frilly, girly, poofy, stupid-looking thing she's got in her arms. Now that she's standing next to me, I see that she's got a pair of brand-new girly shoes sitting on top of the fluff.

"It's a dress, silly!" she beams, then sets the shoes on the floor before holds the dress out so I can see the whole thing. "It's for you! Oh, oh, oh! And this is for you, too!" She holds out a bright red tomato. "It seemed to be one of the last ones left. A lot got squished in that storm last night…"

I ignore the tomato and stare at the dress in shock. Maybe it's just me, but I think my eye twitches a few times. "You…are gonna make me…. _Me…._Wear that thing?!"

She nods, still smiling. "You seemed eager to get out of here yesterday, so I thought I'd bring this and we could go into town and have some fun!"

I continue to stare at the dress, not noticing the voices that are coming from the kitchen. Bella begins looking around as the voices come closer.

"Hold on…_Who's_ here?" I hear Francis ask.

"That Bella person Toni was talking about in the letter," Gilbert replies.

"Uhh, Lovino?" Bella says, "Is there someone...?"

Francis and Gilbert step into the main hall with fake smiles on their faces. Gilbert says "_Guten Morgen," _at the exact same time Francis says, "_Bonjour," _ so it comes out in one big mess. They turn their heads and look at each other before trying again; this time Gilbert says "_Bonjour," _and Francis says "_Guten Morgen," _causing another blurred mess of words. They begin to try again, messing up _again_. My face meets the palm of my hand and I sigh.

"Just stop!" I exclaim, face still in my hand. "I think she gets it!" I look up at them and they both smile sheepishly. I roll my eyes. I can't believe I agreed to let them stay here…

"Bella, this is Gilbert and Francis," I finally say. "They're friends of Antonio's…"  
"It's a…pleasure to meet you," she says awkwardly, looking back and forth between them. She elbows me and whispers, "Why does the blond one look familiar?"

"He helped Toni and I move in here," I whisper back.

"Ah. I remember now. He was the one who kept trying to get into Antonio's pants!"

I look up at her and furrow my eyebrows. "What?!"

"Oh, nothing…" she snickers and looks back up at the two men standing across from us. That little yellow bird that was nestled in Gilbert's hair is back, hopping between Francis and Gilbert's shoulders.

"Are you two…uhmm…"

"What?" they ask in unison.

"Oh, well, you know…" she looks at me for help, but I have no idea what she's talking about either. She frowns and hands me the tomato she had been holding. "…Together?"

Francy Pants and the potato bastard look at each other, then back at Bella. "No, no, no!" they exclaim together, then Francis adds, "Not anymore!"

Gil frowns at him. "Way to make it awkward!"

"I think it was already awkward," I mutter, taking the dress from Bella and heading for the stairs. I can hear Bella's light footsteps trailing after me as Francis and Gilbert begin to argue.

"I knew it," Bella whispers.

"What?" I ask as we begin to climb up.

"Those two," she waves her hand behind her, towards the main hall. "I knew it," she says again, but I sort of stop listening. Right now, the railing on the stairs is more interesting than listening to her talk about her-oh, what does she call it…? Gaydar?

"Just like I knew with Antonio. I'm never wrong!" she continues, but I don't really hear her. I shrug and look down at the dress in my hands, then at the tomato. The colour of the dress and the colour of the tomato sort of clash…

"Wait…" I look over at her again. "What did you just say?"

"Wha-oh, that I'm never wrong?"

"No, no. Before that."

"Just like I knew with Antonio?"

I stop walking and stare at her. She stops, too, staring back at me. "Don't tell me you didn't know…" says, voice hardly above a whisper. "I mean, you _were _only ten the last time you saw him, but…I always thought it was a little…obvious."

I feel like I'm one of her friends and we're gossiping about some guy we saw walking by, not Antonio.

"Oh," I say flatly. I honestly don't know how I'm supposed to take that. I mean, it doesn't change my view of Antonio at all, it's just…. just… Oh, hell, what am I thinking? I don't have any room to talk! My first kiss was with a guy! Of course, he thought I was a girl because I was wearing a dress…and I bitch slapped him afterwards…but still…

"Sweetie?" Bella pokes my shoulder. I look up and she smiles. "C'mon! Let's go get you all dolled up so we can go into town!"

She manages to grab my wrist from under the dress in my arms and she pulls me up the stairs and down a long hallway, all the way to the giant double doors that lead into Antonio's room. She pushes them open and continues to drag me inside the room.

"Quit yanking me around, damn it!" I exclaim.

"Fine," she says and lets go of my wrist. She steps behind me and starts pushing me forward from behind. I curse at her under my breath until we're both standing in front of a full-length mirror, staring at our reflections. She silently takes the dress from my arms and holds it up in front of me. You can literally see her face light up.

"Start changing!" she instructs me, then turns on her heels and runs out of the room.

"Hey! Wh-where are you going?!" I call after her, trailing in her footsteps to the door.

"I dropped something downstairs!" she says, skipping down the hall. "I'll be right back!"

"Dropped something downstairs," I echo quietly and shut the door. She didn't drop anything, though. The only things she came in with were this stupid-ass dress and this tomato! Speaking of the tomato, it's still in my hand. Why the fuck did she bring this thing…?

I toss the stupid tomato onto Antonio's enormous king size bed. I'll take it into the kitchen later, when I'm done changing into this…this…mass of pink fluff. I toss it onto the bed, too, and unbutton my shirt. I fell asleep before I changed last night, so I'm still wearing my blue button-up from yesterday. I pull it off and throw it onto a chair, then look back at the dress lying on the bed. How're you even supposed to wear that thing?

The door to the bedroom bursts open and Bella skips inside. She took her hair down, so her blond curls bounce around her shoulders as she moves. "Why aren't you dressed?" she asks.

"I don't know how to put that fucking thing on!" I exclaim, pointing at it. "Why's your hair down?" I ask, "And why've you been so damn cheery today?"

"Do I need a reason for either of those things?" she asks. I hate it when she does that: answers a question with a question. Questions don't answer questions! She walks over to the dress and picks it up. "Well, for starters, you could try picking it up…"

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever…" I grumble. "What did you drop downstairs?"

"This," she smiles, holding up a pink ribbon matching the colour of the dress. "I'll tie it in your hair and you'll look more girl-like!"

"You mean feminine?"

"Yeah, sure! But first you've gotta put this on!" she tosses the dress at me and I catch it in my arms. I hold it up again, and only now do I realize what it really is: a corset.

"BELLA! I CAN'T WEAR A CORSET!" I scream in horror.

"Why not?" she asks, reaching up and pulling her bun out. Her golden hair falls to her shoulders.

"'Why not?' she asks! 'Why not?!' I'll tell you why not!" I exclaim hysterically, "I'm a BOY! _That's_ why I can't wear a corset!"

"Of course you're a boy, Lovino! That's the whole reason you have to wear it!"

I glare at her, but she ignores it and (against my will) wraps the corset around me. She fastens the weirdo button things in the front, then walks behind me and pushes me so I'm standing in front of the full-length mirror again.

"People are gonna know I'm not a girl if a wear a fucking corset!" I huff, still scrambling to come up with a reason why this is not a good idea.

"We'll just say you've a very flat chest, alright?" She looks up at me and smiles through the mirror, like it'll reassure me or something. I frown and her smile fades a little. She starts doing something to the back of the corset, but I can't tell what.

"What're you even doing back there?" I ask, glare still present even if she can't see it.

"I have to tighten the laces." She continues lacing quietly, and I stand and stare into the mirror. Stupid fucking dresses. I hate them so much.

"Besides," she says a bit out-of the-blue, "this is what fourteen-year-old girls wear now. You'd look completely out of place if you wore one of your old dresses."

I hate how she says that. "One of your old _dresses_." It just reminds me that I do indeed have multiple dresses. _Multiples_, for God's sake! And why did I even have to have them to begin with? I'll tell you why: fucking Antonio and his fucking pirate shit. Why couldn't he just be _normal? _Why couldn't he just let _me _be normal?

Out of nowhere, Bella yanks on the laces, causing me to stumble forward and gasp for breath.

"WHAT THE HELL!" I shout, "YOU CAN'T JUST—"

She cuts me off by yanking the laces again. "Hold onto something so you don't fall over," she advises me. I glare, but do as I'm told and grip the corner of a dresser just in time for her to pull the laces again.

"_I hate this so much!" I stare at the floor and cross my arms over my chest. I can feel a slight pulling on the fabric as Antonio works on (what seems like) the fifty-billion buttons on the back of my dress._

"_I know, Lovi~" he coos. "But you can't go outside without a dress anymore. Don't want Toni to get caught again, do we?" he asks in that stupid sing-song voice of his._

"…_No," I reply reluctantly._

The air inside my lungs flies out my mouth as Bella yanks those damn laces again. I suck in a breath as quickly as I can before she yanks on them again. I manage to glance at her through the mirror. She looks determined, but kind of…happy. I remember hearing her say once that she always wanted a little sister to dress up. Looks like I'm gonna be her 'little sister' today. Greeeeat… Oh well. If it's something I can do to make her happy… I _guess_ it's worth it.

She pulls. Again. I gasp. Again. Never mind. Totally not worth it.

"_There we go, mi tomate! All done!"_

_I look up from my gaze at the floor and peer into the mirror. There I am in the reflection. Looking like a girl. Again._

"_Yeah, whatever," I mutter and turn to leave the room._

"_Hey, wait!" I hear Toni call. Without a warning, he spins me around and picks me up, leaving me no time to even try to stop him. I hate it when he does that. It causes me to sort of crash into his chest as he lifts me, and then I cling to the fabric of his cream-coloured shirt. _

"_Be careful out there." His tone gets serious, but when I look up, his eyes still glimmer with a childish light. "I don't want anything to happen to my little Lovino!" He lightly taps his finger against my nose like it'll somehow help prove his point._

"_Yeah, okay, okay!" I exclaim, swatting his hand away. "Now put me down, fucker!" He grins and kisses me on the forehead. "Aaaaaahhhh, stoooooooop!" I protest, but he ignores me and kisses my forehead once more. Why does he never listen to me?!_

"Almost done, Lovino!" Bella calls from behind me. I blink and clear my vision. I'm staring at my hand. The one gripping the edge of the dresser for dear life.

"Well thank fucking God…" I grumble absentmindedly, trying to shake the memories of Antonio. How old was I when all that happened, anyway? Eight? Yeah, I guess that's right.

Bella pulls the laces one more time; way tighter than before. It's so tight it hurts.

"Fuck!" I gasp, trying to breathe. It feels like the dress is going to rip at the seams and pop off if I try to move. "I don't think it's…supposed…to be this…tight!" I say, stopping between every couple words to breathe more.

"Actually…" I watch through the mirror as she takes the laces in her two hands.

"What're you—"

She pulls as hard as she can, sending me tumbling back a little. I feel her hand press against my back, stabilizing me, then pushing me back to my feet. She quickly ties the laces together and does something else, but I hardly notice it. For some reason, all I can think of is that oneday when I was eight…

"_Put me down, tomato bastard! Put me down right now!"_

_Antonio's laughter fills the hall as he carries me. "No way, mi tomate!" He's heading for the staircase, so I guess he'll let me go outside after all. _

"_Why do you even want to go outside, anyway?" he asks. "There's nothing special out there."_

"_I don't know why!" I respond, deflating a little. Accepting my defeat in the battle of being set down. I eventually lean against his chest as he carries me. "This place is too big," I declare, then look up at the tall ceiling. "Too big and too boring."_

"_Too big and too boring," he echoes. "You could help me clean every once in a while," he suggests, that stupid grin not leaving his face even for a second. "Then you wouldn't be so bored!"_

_My eyes trail to his and a I give him the 'are you seriously saying that?' face. When he doesn't respond I roll my eyes. "No fucking way," I grumble. The damned smiley Spaniard practically flies down the staircase, causing me to cling to the fabric of his shirt yet again. The skirt of my dress bounces with every step down the stairs, and for some reason I try desperately to keep it in place. I swear, he tries to stress me out on purpose._

_Antonio passes the bottom of the stairs and skids to a stop by the front door. "Promise you'll be careful?" he confirms, looking down at me. I'm still wrapped tightly in his arms._

"_Si!" I exclaim, trying once more to wiggle out of his grip. It doesn't work, and he continues to look down at me. His grin widens, and he quickly places a kiss on my cheek. I feel my face redden. I don't know if it's because I'm angry or embarrassed, but it doesn't matter because he starts saying "Te amo" over and over, causing me to become __really_ _red with embarrassment._

"_Okay, okay!" I exclaim. "I get it!"_

_His smile stays in place perfectly as he opens the door for me. I rush out of there, trying to escape any other possible plans he might have for me. Just before he shuts the door, he whispers one last "Te amo."_

_I lean against the closed door and shut my eyes with a sigh. My fingertips brush against the spot on my cheek where he placed that kiss. "Yeah, yeah…" I mutter even though I know he can't hear me anymore, "Ti amo, anche…"_

"I-I…can't…breathe…" I squeak, pulling myself out of my memories. Why do I keep thinking about the tomato bastard so much? For four years I've managed not to let myself get buried in memories, but now I just… I just keep getting swallowed in them.

"If you can talk, you can breathe," Bella assures me, and dusts off her hands. "You should be happy I'm not making you wear one of these hoop things under your skirt," she says, motioning to her lower half. "_These _are really worth complaining about. Speaking of skirts, though…"

She picked up the giant poofy skirt and helps me step into it. She pulls it up past my hips and does something in the back to make it stay. When she's done she walks back in front of me. She looks at me, trying to see my face, but I move my gaze to the floor. We stay like that for a minute, then two, then three. "Lovino?" she finally asks. I look up. Her golden hair almost glows in the sunlight. It's actually a little weird to see it out of a bun. Right after Antonio left, she cut it really short. She kept it like that for a while, then she started growing it out again. But she's always kept it in a bun.

You know, I've never really understood why she cut it in the first place. I wonder if it had something to do with that fight…?

"_Yo no quería volver a salir! Yo todavía no me quiero ir! ¿Por qué no lo entiendes? ¿Cómo no lo entiendes?!" Antonio shouts, pacing back and forth like a caged animal._

"_English, please!" Bella exclaims, throwing her hands in the air. They're practically at each other's throats. I stand quietly in the doorway, watching the whole scene play out. It's incredible, really; watching those two fight. They hardly ever get angry, and I've only seen them fight with each other once before this. They're so angry they haven't even noticed me yet._

"_I do not want to leave!" Antonio says, annunciating and pausing between each word like Bella's five years old._

"_What's that supposed to mean?!" she yells._

"_Have you heard a single word I've said?" he asks. "Just listen to me, Bella!"_

"_I __am __listening, Toni!" Bella spats back, "I'm listening to every word you say, even the ones in Spanish! But not one of those words have explained anything! I just don't get it! Why do you have to leave?! Why can't you stay here and raise Lovino like you promised you would?!"_

"_I'm not doing this for myself!" Antonio exclaims. "You think I __like __the idea of leaving? Well, I don't. I hate it. __Hate__ it, Bella! If it were up to me, none of this would be happening!"_

"_But it __is__ up to you, damn it!" Bella practically screams. I gasp. I swear all the time, I know. But I've never heard __her__ swear before._

_Antonio and Bella's heads turn and look at me. "Lovino?!" they exclaim in unison. I stare back at them, wondering what the hell will happen next._

"_Now look at what you've done…" Bella mutters and begins to walk over to me._

"_I didn't do anything!" Antonio replies exasperatedly. Bella stops and looks back at him._

"_What didn't you do?! You promised to stop being a pirate! You promised to settle down! You promised to take care of Lovino! And then…" she clenches her fists by her sides, "Then you just decide to leave! You think you can just waltz away and everything will be just fine!"_

"_I never decided to leave!" he shouts. "I would never have even dreamed of leaving if it weren't for Kirkland, alright?!"_

_Suddenly the anger in Bella's face is replaced with confusion. "What?" she questions, "What's he got to do with it?"_

"_Don't you remember? Don't you remember what happened to him? And what happened to Alfred?"_

"_Who's Alfred?" I wonder aloud. Antonio and Bella turn and face me, looking like they had forgotten I'm here again._

"Heeelllloooooo?" Bella sings, waving her hand in front of my face. I jump back a little, blinking repeatedly. "You've been so spacey lately, Lovino…" she trails off as she snatches that pink ribbon off the bed. She turns back to me and starts trying it in my hair.

"You never told me…" I murmur.

"Never told you what?" she asks.

"Who Alfred was."  
"Who?"

"That's what I want to know."

She stares at me blankly, obviously waiting for an explanation.

"Right before the tomato bastard left, you two got in a big fight, remember? And he said he had to leave because of what happened to Arthur Kirkland and Alfred. I know who Kirkland is, we all know who he is, but no one ever told me who that Alfred guy was."

She goes back to tying the bow in my hair silently. Eventually, she speaks, "You remember that graveyard past the tomato fields? The one you can get to through the woods out back?"

"_Si,_" I respond. I found that graveyard about a month after we moved here. Apparently Antonio already knew it was there, but Bella didn't. One day when she was visiting, I dragged her all the way to it, and we looked at all the graves. She started getting freaked out after a while and we eventually went back home.

"After we go into town today, go to the graveyard and look at all the graves," she instructs me.

"Okay…" Where the fuck is she going with this? "Why am I going to the graveyard?"

"Because I don't know how to say it."

"Say what?"

"Say that…that…" she stops and drops her hands to her side. "I don't know how to put it! I just…God, I wish Toni were here…"

"You're not the only one." I turn away from the mirror and walk to the door. "You coming?" I ask her.

"Yeah, in a minute. I…gotta find something…" she trails off and begins rummaging around a bookshelf. "Maybe it's in the library…" I hear her mutter. I decide not to question her any further and walk out into the hallway. I follow the hallways, past doors leading to random rooms, past paintings and clocks hung on the walls, past windows with colourful curtains, past chandeliers hung high above my head, all the way back to the staircase that leads to the main hall. I stop at the top of the stairs and look back to see if Bella's caught up with me yet.

"Oh, there you are, _mon ami_!" Francis calls from the bottom of the stairs, "I was just loo—oooh…"

I look down at him and furrow my eyebrows. He's just staring at me. It's kind of creepy. Why's he staring at me?!

"What?" I snap. Gilbert walks in from the sitting room and looks up at me, too. He grins like an idiot and whistles. "Are you serious?!" I exclaim, looking down at what I'm wearing. "You two are such fucking perverts! What the hell is wrong with you! You need help! Seriously! I can't believe tha—"

"Calm down, sweetie," Bella places a gentle hand on my shoulder and smiles calmly. I frown at her.

"Where the hell did you come from?!" I ask, annoyed at everything now. "You weren't even in the hallway two seconds ago!"

"I was in the library. You said you wanted to know who Alfred was, so," she hands me a really old looking book, "here you go. Read this when you're in the graveyard, okay?"

"Alright…" I take the book from her hands and she nods.

"Now that that's over with," she grabs my hand and pulls me down the stairs. She's making a habit of pulling me around. It's kind of annoying. We reach the bottom of the steps and she continues to drag me with her as she opens the front door.

"Hey, woah, wait!" Gilbert exclaims, rushing over to us. "Where are you going?"

"I don't know," I reply, looking back at him. "I don't even have shoes on!"

Bella pushes my dress away from my feet, revealing that they are indeed bare. "Well," Bella mutters, pulling me back in the door, "get the shoes I brought for you, silly!"

"Fine, but where are we even going?"

"I told you, we're going into town!"

"But," Francis cuts in, "What about the breakfast I made?"

"We'll save it for later, I guess," I tell him. "When she decides on something," I point at Bella, "there's no changing her mind."

"_Oui, _I can tell…" he pouts and goes back into the kitchen. I slip on the shoes that Bella brought for me, but they have a slight heel, making it really fucking hard to walk. I try to take a few steps, but I trip over my own feet and the world goes blurry. The book Bella gave me falls from my hands and hits the floor. I shut my eyes as fast and as tight as I can as I wait for my face to collide with the floor like the book, but it doesn't. Instead, I feel a hand slip into mine and an arm wrap around my waist, pulling me close to whoever caught me.

"Gotcha!"

I look down at the arm around my waist, then at the hand in mine, then I finally look up to see who caught me. When I realize who it is, I practically deflate in annoyance, causing him to hold onto me even tighter.

"Of course it's you, you damn potato bastard…"

"Well, would you rather have the awesome me catch you, or would you rather fall on your face?" Gilbert asks. I roll my eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," I grumble. "Just let go of me already!" He does as he's told and let's go of me. I straighten out my dress and look over at Bella, who's giggling a little as she picks up the book I dropped. I glare at her, but she doesn't notice, so I walk past her and open the front door.

"Wait…" I say, looking through the doorway and out to the clearing in front of the house. "What happened to your carriage?" I ask. "I didn't even notice it was gone earlier."

"Oh," Gilbert says, walking up next to my side. "I moved it when you and Francis were making dinner yesterday."

"And the horses?" I question. "What'd you do about them?"

"I put them in the stable out back," he replies nonchalantly. I stare up at him blankly.

"How did you…?"

"I used my awesome powers of detection to find the stable!"

I sigh. "No, I meant how did you move the whole fucking carriage and two horses with all those…those…" I pause, trying to think of the right word. "Injuries."

He shrugs. "I'm awesome."

"Of course you are," I mutter sarcastically, then step out onto the porch, careful to hold onto the doorframe so I don't fall over again. Bella steps out behind me, then turns back to face Gilbert.

"Would you two like to join us?" she asks. I whip my head around to stop her, but it's too late. Gilbert's already agreed and is yelling at Francis.

"What the hell did you do that for?" I hiss at Bella, who's now bouncing that book between her hands.

"Hmm?" she smiles like she's completely innocent. I roll my eyes.

"I swear, Bella..."

"What?" she asks again, still playing Little Miss Innocent.

"Are you _trying_ to drive me insane?!" I exclaim.

"Who's driving you insane?" Gilbert asks, stepping out onto the porch with Bella and I, Francis at his heels.

"Nothing, never mind!" I frown. "Let's just go already!"

"_Oui_, let's go, _mes amis_!" Francis says as he skips down the steps and onto the dirt path that leads to the gate. Gilbert and Bella follow him down the steps, but I hesitate and stare down at the shiny white stairs.

"What's wrong, Lovino?" Bella asks.

I look up to see that the three adults have all stopped to look back at me. I bite my lip and look back at the steps. I don't want to admit it, but quite frankly, I'm scared to try to go down the stairs in these stupid shoes. I already tripped trying to walk on my own, how am I supposed to go down stairs? And walk across a whole field? And then the road to get to Bella's carriage?

"Need some assistance, milady?" Gilbert asks teasingly, holding out his hand for me to take.

"Wh-what?!" I exclaim. I can feel my face redden with embarrassment. "N-no way!"

"Then c'mon! Let's get moving!"

"Well you don't have to be so damn pushy!"

"I'm not pushy! I'm," he pauses and stands up tall, "A gentleman!"

I snicker and look down, trying my hardest not to let him see that he's actually making me laugh. "_You_ can do that?"

"Of course I can! All one must do is act very gentleman-ly!"

"Gentleman-ly?" I question skeptically, but I can't help but still grin.

"Ja! It's easy! You just have to do nice things… Like this!" Before I can even register what he's doing, he picks me up bridal-style.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!" I exclaim, suddenly horrified.

"Being gentleman-ly!" he laughs. Bella and Francis start laughing hysterically, much to my annoyance.

"Okay, okay! I get it! Put me down, now!"

"Nope!"

"What?!"

"Doesn't work that way, milady! Not if you can't even walk down the stairs."

"What are you going to do, then?" I ask, folding my arms over my chest the best I can.

"Carry you," he snickers.

"Are you serious?!" I exclaim. He grins. I don't know if I should slap him across the face or just glare. "Put me down right now!"

_"Put me down right now!"_

_"Fusososo! No way, mi tomate!"_

"Kesesese! No way, milady!"

I stare at him blankly. Is he really _that much_ like Antonio? How did he even do that? I mean, I'm sure he didn't know he did that, but he sounded _exactly_ like Antonio... And the way he's been joking around lately…

The Prussian hops down the steps and carries me as he walks down the dirt path, Bella and Francis on each side of us. They all start chatting up a storm, laughing and joking like they've been friends for years. Which Gilbert and Francis have, but Bella's known them for, what, an hour? But then again, Bella gets along with everyone. It wouldn't surprise me if she knew every single person in town.

Before I even notice, we've stopped in front of the gate. Which is...closed again?

"You closed it?" I ask Gilbert (whose face is in uncomfortably close approximation to mine.)

"Well, you're not supposed to leave gates open all the time, are you?"

"But how did you close it with all those-"

"I _told_ you! I'm _awesome_!"

"All those what?" Bella asks.

"Nothing," Gil responds quickly. "Open the gate, will you, Francis? If I set milady down she might fall over again."

"I am not a 'she'!" I frown as Francis opens the gate. "And stop calling me 'milady'!"

"_Nein_, I don't think I will." He grins, causing me to automatically roll my eyes.

"That's enough, you two," Bella laughs and begins to lead the way down the path. She leads us past the tall grass and tomato fields, all the way to the apple tree where her carriage is sitting.

Gilbert finally sets me down as Bella tells coachman where to go. We all pile into the coach of the carriage, Bella and I on one side, Francis and Gilbert on the other. Their chit-chat continues as we ride along, and I stare out the window. We start hitting those bumps like we did yesterday, but today they don't seem as annoying.

The scenery passes by slowly, tomato fields disappear and soon the deep blue ocean and the docks come into sight. Shit, man...those docks... The last time I even looked in the direction of the docks was when I was ten. After what happened there, I just couldn't stand the thought of them anymore...

"_Why can't you just stay here?!" I shout at him, backing up slowly. "Why?!"_

"_Lovi, calm down," Antonio says, stepping towards me. I back up more, but he grabs my wrist and pulls me forward._

"_Let go of me, bastard!" I say, trying to pull my hand away._

"_If you back up anymore you'll fall off the edge!"_

_I turn my head and look behind me. Sure enough, the edge of the wooden dock is only inches away, and beyond that is the dark blue sea. The one he's leaving me for._

"_Lovino, look at me," Antonio says. I turn my head back so we're facing each other again. He's smiling. Like always. "Everything's gonna be okay! I'll come back!"_

"_People always say that!" I exclaim, a warm tear dripping down my face. "People always say 'I'll be back' or 'I won't be gone for good' but it's not true! I may have only been three, but I remember the day when Nonno disappeared! He left in the morning, and he said to me and Feliciano, 'I'll be back in a little bit.' But he __didn't __come back, Antonio! He disappeared, and I never saw him again. And that jackass at the adoption place said I'd see Feliciano again, but have I? __Have I?__ NO! I haven't! And now you're saying you'll come back! But…I know you won't." _

_I feel tears drip down my face, and Antonio wipes them away with his thumb. "No matter what anyone says, Lovino, I'll come back. And no matter what they say, I'll always love you more than anything. How could I never come back for the one person I love the most?"_

"_Antonio!" someone shouts. Antonio and I turn our heads and look toward the end of the dock, towards Antonio's ship. One of those crew people is waving Antonio over. "Time to go!" the guy shouts. Antonio turns back towards me, a sad smile painted on his face. This is the first time one of his smiles haven't been 100% full of happiness. _

"_What do I have to do!?" I blurt out. Antonio cocks his head, confused. "What do I have to do to make you stay?" I ask again. He shakes his head slowly, the sad smile back. _

"_I'm leaving, Lovino. I have to. There's no turning back now."_

"_B-but I—"_

"_I really will be back, mi tomate," Antonio says as he crouches down so our eyes are level. " I promise." He takes my hands in his and squeezes them. "Te amo, Lovino," he whispers and kisses my forehead._

"_Ti amo!" I exclaim and throw my arms around his neck, clinging to him. "Y-you better c-come back, you b-bastard!" I sniffle. _

"_I will." He lightly pushes me away and I step back. He wraps his pinky around mine. "I pinky swear I will come back for you, okay?"_

"_Si." I stare at him for as long as I can, trying to remember every last thin about his face. Trying to remember the exact shade of his emerald eyes, trying to remember the way his lips curl upwards, revealing lines from years of smiling. All of it. I have to remember all of it. _

_He rises up to his feet and gives me one last faint smile before turning around and beginning to walk away. The wind blows his red coat around his legs as he walks to the end of the dock, then onto his ship. I stand there and watch as he orders people around in Spanish until everything is ready and the ship slowly moves away from the dock. Panic runs through my blood as I take off running to the end of the dock as fast as my short legs will take me. _

"_A-Antonio!" I yell. "Wait!" Tears start dripping down my face again. I lower my voice to a whisper as reach out my hand like it'll somehow stop him, "Don't go…"_

"Lovino?" someone pokes my forehead. I jump, blinking repeatedly. My eyes feel funny. They're all cold and...wet? I reach up and touch my cheek. It's all wet, too. I had been crying.

"Sweetie, what's wrong?" Bella asks, lifting my chin so she can see my face. I whip my head around away from her and wipe the tears away with the back of my hand.

"Nothing, damn it! I'm fine!" I say, not wanting to deal with explaining everything to them. It's not like they'd get it, anyway. They didn't go through all this shit like I did. They didn't have their parents taken away from them. They didn't have their grandfather taken away from them. They didn't have their twin taken away from them. They didn't have Antonio taken away from them the way I did. They didn't have every single person who was important to them taken away. And you just can't understand how it feels if you haven't been through it.

"You know what you need?" Bella asks, causing me to look up again. "You need breakfast! We all do. I know a little café that has the best waffles!" I know she's trying to cheer me up. Usually I would play along and let her think I was okay, but I don't feel like even doing that anymore.

"Yeah, whatever…" I grumble. "I'm not even hungry."

"Well, you better hurry up and get hungry," she says, smile not leaving her face. "Because we're here!" Just like she said, the carriage comes to a stop and Francis opens the door for us.

We step out of the carriage and into the town. I haven't seen this part of town in a while. We're standing right in the middle of the square, a busy place filled with shops and all kinds of shit. The roads are made of cobblestone and the buildings are painted all kinds of random colours.

It's kind of weird, just standing here where everyone can see me. Even when I was little and Antonio put me in dresses, we still tried to avoid people really noticing us. And all the times I've come into town while he's been gone (which isn't many) I've had to dodge behind buildings and practically tip-toe in the shadows so that people wouldn't see me. But now, here I am. Standing right here in the middle of town with carriages rolling past me, and people walking right by me. Even the _policia_ walk by me, not even giving me a second glance. It's nice, yeah, but it's also just so...weird. It feels so...wrong.

"Stay close to me!" Bella says, stepping up to my right side. I look up at her. Her hair's back up in its bun, like always. How the hell did she do that so fast?

"Where'd you put that book?" I ask, noticing that she's no longer holding it.

"I left it in the carriage. We won't need—"

"Ooooh! What's that?" I hear Francis ask. Bella and I turn around to see the Frenchman looking in the window of a shop, with Gilbert standing next to him.

"It doesn't look very awesome," Gil comments, then looks in the window of the shop next door. "This place looks _way _more awesome!" he exclaims. "Let's go in here!"

"I think you need to worry about them staying close more than you need to worry about me," I tell Bella. She sighs and nods.

"How long have they been staying at the house?" she asks as she grabs my hand and pulls me over towards Gilbert and Francis. "I forgot to ask you earlier."

"They just showed up yesterday," I tell her as she drags me along. I seem to have better balance when we're walking fast. "Right around the time you dropped me off."

"Ah. I see. So you haven't had to deal with them for too long, then."

"No, not really... But they're still a pain in the ass," I grumble, then manage to free my hand from hers.

We get to the door of the shop just as Gilbert's stepping in, with Francis at his heels. Bella reaches out to grip Gilbert's shoulder. I immediately think of last night and all those cuts and burns, and the way he winced when I hardly even brushed my fingers against it. I can't let Bella grab his shoulder like that!

"NO WAIT!" I exclaim, extending my own hand to stop hers. I'm slightly late with my reaction, though, and her hand brushes against his shoulder just as I yank it away.

"Ooooowww!" he exclaims, turning around on his heels. Bella looks down at me, alarmed.

"What did I...?" she asks, turning to Francis, who looks just as confused as she does. Hold on, what? Why does _he_ look confused? Didn't he know that Gilbert was hurt? How could he _not_ have known that the albino was injured? Whatever, that's not important right now. Right now, Gilbert's in pain, and that's what's important.

"Are you okay?!" I exclaim, rushing to his side. I look up at his face; he's squeezed his eyes shut and he's biting his lip, I assume as a method to deal with the pain.

"Don't tell Francis," he whispers.

"What?"

"Don't tell him!" he repeats. "I don't... oh, fuck, this hurts..." He takes a breath and looks me square in the eye. "I don't want Francis to worry about me anymore."

I stare at him for a moment, not really knowing what to think. He cares more about Francis worrying than he does his own injuries? Why the hell would he...?

"Okay," I hear myself say, which is surprising, seeing as how I had planned on lecturing him about what his top priorities should really be. "But... What do I tell them?" I ask and look back at Francis and Bella. They both look worried sick.

"Don't worry about it," the Prussian says, "I'll make something up." He takes a deep breath, then lets it out slowly.

"You okay now?" I ask him, unsure of what else to say or do.

"Ja, ja. Just... don't let her do that again! The awesome can't be as awesome if I'm in pain."

I roll my eyes. "Why does he keep referring to himself like that?" I grumble under my breath, losing all the sympathy I had had for him before. "And how could he have carried me all that way and not be able to handle _that…?_ Oh, that's right. He's 'awesome.'" I roll my eyes again and begin to walk over to another one of the shops, getting used to the shoes, but I feel someone's hand grip my wrist and pull me back.

"Why do you keep doing that?!" I exclaim, already knowing it's Bella who latched on to my wrist. "It's annoying!"

"It's also my only way to keep you safe!" she scolds, motherly tone becoming ever-so-present. I glare up at her, but she ignores it the way she always does.

"Hey Bella!" Francis exclaims. Bella turns around to face him, letting go of my wrist in the process. I take the opportunity to start to sneak away.

"Let's get something to eat," I hear Gilbert offer as I dodge the other people hurrying around the square.

"Alright," Bella agrees hastily. "Hold on…Where's Lovin—"

"We'll pay for it!" Francis cuts her off. "Let's go, _mon ami!"_

I turn around and look at them for a second. Francis and Gilbert are both dragging Bella in the opposite direction from me. Francis looks back at me with a grin and winks. Wait…is he trying to help me? He's the _last _person I'd expect help from, but…

I mouth a "thank you" and turn around. I start walking towards some random shop, happy to get away from over-protective Bella. I look around at all the buildings painted a rainbow of colours and all the people in their funny clothing and makeup. Technically I've lived in this town for most of my life, yet I don't know a single soul walking these streets.

I pull my attention back to where my feet are taking me just in time to processes that someone's about to run into me. I freeze in place, but the other person doesn't see me. The world goes blurry for the second time today as he walks square into me, our heads colliding. It knocks the air from my lungs as I fall, landing square on my ass (which is fucking painful, if you were wondering.)

"_Che male…_Damn…" I mutter, rubbing my head with the back of my hand.

"Owwwwww…" the person who ran into me whines.

"No fucking kidding," I say, looking up a little. It hurts to move my head, so I don't get a good look at him, but I can tell it's some boy who looks my age. It looks like he fell on his ass, too.

"Feli," I hear someone else say, "Help that girl up! You're such a clutz!" _Girl?_ I look down and realize I've got that damn dress on.

"Oh, right! _Scusi, signora!" _the boy who knocked me down says, Italian accent becoming apparent. He stands up and holds out his hand to help me up. I take it reluctantly, and he pulls me back up to my feet.

"_Scusi,_" he says again, voice shaking a little bit.

"_Si, si_, it's fine," I say, straightening out my dress; the one that's apparently doing its job in convincing people that I'm a girl. "I should've been watching where I was going," I tell him.

"No, no! It's my f-fault, really! But, uh…" he stops, then starts again, "So, you're Italian, too, _si?"_

"_Si_," I tell him, finally looking up at his face. I stare at him, frozen in shock.

Half-way hidden behind his auburn fringe are wide brown eyes. The lazy Spanish sunlight plays off the golden specks in his eyes, almost making them glitter. His slightly pale, olive-tinted skin looks as smooth as porcelain, and his lips are dusted light pink.

But what I'm really staring at - what's really got me shocked - is the fact that looking at him...is like looking in a mirror.

"Feliciano?!"

"Lovino?!"

**A/N OHHHH cliffhangerrr! haha... You guys have no idea how fun it was to write this chapter ^^ I didn't really know if I should have elaborated more on Lovi's first kiss with a boy, because that might have been pointless, but it was very tempting… ;) lol anyways, thanks for the reviews! They make me happy!**


	4. AUTHOR'S UPDATE--PLEASE READ

**AUTHOR'S UPDATE**

**Hello everyone! I'm so sorry I haven't updated in forever! I _am _working on the next chapter for this story, and I just wanted you all to know that, so don't give up on me! I hope you can all understand, what with the holiday season and as some of you know, my school work has pretty much swallowed me whole (I think we've all been down that road!)**

**Anyways, the update should be coming soon and I promise it will be good (especially now that Feliciano and Ludwig have entered the story XD)**

**~Annika (kesesesesesesese)**


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